


so much love

by calloffyourethics, clairelutra (exosolarmoon)



Series: I want the K [6]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, post-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-14
Updated: 2015-12-14
Packaged: 2018-05-06 16:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5423450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calloffyourethics/pseuds/calloffyourethics, https://archiveofourown.org/users/exosolarmoon/pseuds/clairelutra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>oh, i can't stop hearing all the singing</em>
  <br/>
  <em>oh, my soul has never had this feeling</em>
  <br/>
  <em>and it feels like gold</em>
</p><p>Frosting is Serious Business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so much love

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to [cieratroyart](http://cieratroyart.tumblr.com/), [metawohoo](http://metawohoo.tumblr.com/), and [sorarts](http://sorarts.tumblr.com/)!!
> 
> so beta'd by [mirthalia](http://mirthalia.tumblr.com/) i've added her as a co-author. thank you so much for your fantastic, fantastic work, always <3

17: Goofy Kiss

“Done!” Marinette declared, pulling back from the wedding cake she'd finished decorating while absently swatting her assistant’s hand away from his mouth for the fifth time in the past hour. He seemed to be having a problem with the strict ‘no finger licking’ rule her bakery had.

Not that she blamed him, in this case — the decorative frosting had turned out unusually well, with beautiful colour and a perfect creamy consistency, releasing the faintest whiff of butter and sugar. It was taking no small amount of effort to resist the urge to lick the bowl herself.

She gathered up her tools and gave her assistant a stern look. “I need to wash up. Can I trust you to behave yourself?”

Adrien snatched his hand away from his mouth when she turned to him, hiding both behind his back. “Of course, my lady!”

Her eyes narrowed, though she had to resist a smile. “Do you promise?”

“I _paw_ -mise~” he agreed, giving her a little grin that was fifty-percent Adrien, fifty-percent Chat, and one-hundred-percent pun-loving _dork_.

The fight to hide the smile was becoming a losing battle, but she prevailed, determined to hold out just a little bit longer. A raised eyebrow was added to her narrowed eyes.

“Cat’s honor!” he swore, resting a cellophane-gloved hand over the heart of the stained apron she’d made him wear.

With a roll of her eyes and a mumble of something to the effect of ‘do cats even have honor?’ she took her tools over to the sink, unable to stifle the giggle sounding deep in her throat.

Adrien followed her, apparently making good on his ‘pawmise’ by removing himself from temptation entirely.

One unfairly attractive hip braced against the counter to her left as she rolled up her sleeves and filled the sink with soapy water. Her assistant remained silent, removing his gloves and then letting her fill the space with a hum of half-remembered melody as he simply watched.

That wouldn’t do.

Shoving a soapy, dripping bowl at him, she commanded, “Help.”

“Yes’m,” he chirped, accepting the bowl with good grace and a light step as he turned to join her at the sink.

They worked side-by-side in silence for a while, hands brushing, dishes washed and dried in a comfortable rhythm.

Though she kept her eyes on her work, she sensed the glances he was stealing of the bowl on her right, still streaked with colourful frosting. Marinette waited for the attack.

There was an intake of breath.

She cut it off before he could start. “No, kitty, you can’t lick the bowl.”

“But—” he protested, not missing a beat.

“House rules, love,” she said, leaning her own hip against the counter and gesturing at him with a soapy spatula and a grin.

“You’ve gotta be _kitten_ me,” he groaned dramatically, though the twitch of his mouth exposed the theater behind it.

Marinette snickered.

“You know,” she said, slinking closer to her partner’s side. “I don’t think I like your _cat_ -titude.”

He lit up, eyes glittering in barely suppressed laughter as he leaned in as well. “Oh? Would you say I’m… _bug_ -ging you?”

That one earned him a swat on the arm — she couldn't _not_ , even as her head bowed in helpless laughter.

When she'd gained enough control to glance up, mid-giggle, she found him watching her with the same soft, affectionate smile that experience had taught her meant he was going to either kiss her or say something horribly sweet.

It was the first.

The warmth of his kiss had her willingly arching into him, skin tingling with want while her heart danced in amusement, laughter lacing her soft moan, warm affection sweeping from head to toe to mingle with the pit of delight fizzing in her stomach.

Cool air interrupted the fizzle as he pulled back to give her a mischievous grin, and she had just enough time to blink the stars out of her eyes before his fingers were stroking over her lips, painting them with a thick substance before he bent down to capture her mouth once again.

Butter and sugar mingled with the taste of his kiss this time, and it struck her what he must have done: he’d distracted her with puns and kisses, and then reached behind for the frosting bowl and snagged some of the treat while he had her where he wanted her.

She spluttered against his mouth, mock-outraged, and he just laughed, nibbling and sucking and licking her lips to get all the frosting off.

“You—” she gasped as he drew away a second time, her soapy hands clutching at the counter to support her watery knees. “You! You— you, you!”

“Me,” he agreed, licking his lips suggestively, flashing her a smirk that never failed to get her going. (Despite all of her best efforts, he’d _found out_ it got her going, and, oh, he _used_ it.) “Might I say that you taste _pawsitively purrfect_ , my lady.”

A strangled noise of protest grated in her throat and she jabbed him with the butt end of the spatula, her cheeks burning.

With a peal of gleeful laughter he ducked away and slipped out the door into the bakery proper, out of her reach and victorious.

Her cheeks puffed up in a pout, feeling warm from head to toe in a hundred different ways. She wasn’t used to being so utterly bested — and especially not by _him_.

In the middle of her flustered sulk her eyes happened to fall on the bowl he’d left behind. Traces of frosting still coated its sides, interrupted by two clean streaks where his fingers had stolen their prize.

An evil little smile snuck up her face.

(Making sure to sit on the counter in a spot where Adrien could see her but the customers could not, she spent the next hour alternately dipping her hands into the bowl in her lap and licking her fingers clean in delightfully unsanitary ways until Adrien couldn’t take it any more and tackled her.)


End file.
